


Five, Three, Forever

by xeewrites



Series: Sandboys [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aggressive Keith (Voltron), Angst, Drunk Keith (Voltron), Drunk Sex, Galaxy Garrison, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Shiro (Voltron), James (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Jealousy, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lonely Keith (Voltron), Love Triangles, M/M, Mild Smut, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), PDA, Pidge just wants everyone to be happy, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-season 7(Voltron), Primary James/Keith, Season 7 Spoilers, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15719544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeewrites/pseuds/xeewrites
Summary: James asks Keith out for a drink and Shiro needs to know why





	Five, Three, Forever

Shiro knew he was being immature. He'd tried to tell himself it was his responsibility, that he was _supposed_ to keep an eye on the paladins. He knew he shouldn't be suspicious of James Griffin - James had proven himself over the last two months as a capable leader. Whether the authority had made him kind, Shiro wasn't sure, but he'd matured enough that Shiro knew he didn't have to worry about a fist fight.

It was something else that worried Shiro. 

"Keith," James had said abruptly, tugging off his helmet after a round of drills and tucking it under his arm. "Let's get a drink."   
  
Keith had just blinked, slowly, lazily, like he does, as he set his own helmet down. Lance had jumped in and said he was going too, and Pidge - still underage - had bitterly pointed out they hadn't been invited. Keith had eventually shrugged and said sure. James had nodded, said to meet at eight, and headed off towards the showers, completely ignoring the rest of the paladins.   
  
And this is how Shiro finds himself three hours later, leaning against the corridor wall - in a way he hopes is nonchalant - next to a vending machine just around the corner from the Garrison Grub. He sucks at a juice box, silently listing off all the things he could - should - be doing besides stalking his favorite colleague. He's not sure whether he's trying to talk himself into going home, or going inside.

"Uh, Shiro?"   
  
Shiro coughs and straightens up. "Lance," he says quickly, crushing the drink in his hand - it's not quite empty and juice drips out of the straw. He uses this to stall, stepping past Lance to the rubbish slot on the opposite wall. "What're you doing here?"

Lance looks tired - and to no surprise, it's been a really long week for all of them. 

"Just going for a drink," Lance says, stuffing his hands in his pocket and kicking a foot at the floor. "I figured - I mean, I've almost forgotten what beer tastes like, and well, I'm old enough now, so..." he trails off, then looks back at Shiro, eyebrows raised - "what're _you_ doing here?"

"Oh, I-" Shiro pauses. "I was - also getting a drink?"

"You came all this way for a juicebox?"

Shiro laughs awkwardly and raises his prosthetic hand to the back of his neck. "I've been moved to C," he says, "so I'm actually pretty close now. But if you want some company..."

Lance breaks out a wicked grin. "Shiro" he says, stepping forward and clapping Shiro on the back."I can see myself drinking alone -  but I expected more of you. This will be good - me and Captain Shirogane, drowning our sorrows together."

"I'm not sorrowful-" Shiro protests, but Lance is already marching him along, dragging him by his sleeve.    
  
The Garrison Grub used to be a bistro - but the food had been worse than the cafeteria, so the best meal it sold now was soggy nachos. But it had always had an excellent selection of craft beer, a guilty pleasure for Shiro. The bar is bustling, dimly lit, and packed with people.

He knows Lance is there because he feels left out, and buys him a drink as soon as they get inside. The beer selection, to Shiro's disappointment, has shrunk considerably. He forces himself _not_ to look around the room, but when they pick a table Shiro takes the seat with the best view of the bar. He checks his watch - eight oh two.

"You're right," Shiro says as he finishes his first drink, distracting himself from the time. At last check it was twenty-past, with no sign of Keith or James. "This is nice. We haven't really hung out much, just the two of us."

Shiro wonders if James was taking Keith to a different bar - maybe they were driving into the city? 

"Yeah-"

"I don't believe this."

"Pidge! Where did you come from?"

Pidge, in a green pullover and bleached skinny jeans, looking ridiculously underage, pulls up a stool. "I'm gatecrashing," she says unnecessarily. She's carrying a glass as tall as her head - some cocktail with a curly straw.

"Pidge, you're not-"

"No one knows how old I am," she says slyly. "Besides, Shiro won't say anything, he bought me a drink on 'Ondra"  
  
"You were technically old enough on 'Ondra," says Shiro gently, but winks. "But I'm not your commanding officer anymore.  
  
"Wait, you went drinking with Shiro?"

"We were undercover-" Pidge starts, but Shiro gets distracted when Keith and James - finally - walk through the door, together, deep in conversation. They're unmistakable, James in his leather jacket and Keith with his messy, unpractically long hair. James points out the last empty table on the other side of the room, shielded somewhat by a divider of fake trees, and Keith takes a seat facing away while James goes to the bar. 

Shiro feels ridiculous and wants to shrink into his chair. 

"Oh look, James is here," says Pidge, pushing her tall green thing away and stealing Lance's drink. "I'm not the only one who's curious, right? That's why we're all here?"

"What no, I just forgot the Garrison had a bar," says Lance defiantly, "and that's _mine_." But he folds his arms and lets Pidge take a sip.

Shiro tries to look surprised at Pidge's accusation.

"Well," says Pidge, passing the glass back and pushing her glasses up her nose. "Neither of you are good liars. But I know James and Keith used to hate each other, and they've been doing the weird eye thing all week-"

"Weird eye thing?" Shiro starts.

"How do you know they used to hate each other, you weren't even here-"

Pidge sighs. "People talk, Lance. And I've seen Keith's report."

Shiro clears his throat. "Weird eye thing?" 

"You know," says Lance, waving his hand and sighing, "how James will glare at Keith and then Keith will look confused, and then James will sigh and roll his eyes or pout like he's trying to tell Keith something-"

"And then Keith will look all thoughtful and James will storm off or sulk," Pidge finishes.

Shiro frowns, furrowing his brow. "Do you think they're still fighting? I mean it's been years-"

Pidge grins. "James was his rival, his arch-nemesis-"

"I was Keith's rival!" Lance butts in.

"Keith barely knew your name," Pidge points out. "But he talked about James quite a bit."

"He did?"

"Well." Pidge shrugs. "As much as he talks about anyone from Earth."

Lance hums. "So, lets say they still hate each other. Why come here?"

Pidge's grin widened. "That's what we're here to find out."

 

\--

 

Keith doesn't expect James to be right outside his room when he opens the door, and jumps back, nearly tripping over Wolf. "What are you doing here?"   

James frowns and crosses his arms. He's wearing a dark blue button-up, and Keith suddenly feels under-dressed in his red tee and sneakers. "I said eight, didn't I?"

"I thought we were meeting there."

"Well, I wasn't sure you'd remember where to go." James sounds annoyed. He crouches down and holds out a hand to Wolf. "It's been five years," he adds. "Hey Kosmo."

"His name's not Kosmo," says Keith with a sigh. "And it's only been three for me."

"I'm still having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around that."

Wolf pads around Keith, his claws clicking in the corridor as they leave the carpet. He sniffs James then pushes his snout into his hand. 

James smiles slightly and takes the invitation, running his fingers through the fur. His eyes dart up to Keith's, who's watching him curiously. "I think your dog likes me," he says. "How do I know if he's going to teleport me to another planet?"

"You don't," says Keith. "But he won't."

"Why not?"

Keith shrugs and crouches down next to them. "He usually knows where you want - or need - to go, and when. I don't know how. Sometimes, when he's startled or gets a fright, he'll take you somewhere unexpected, but he won't go far." Wolf rolls onto his side and lets James scratch him.

"He feel so bizzare," says James, musing. "It's like his fur is made of water." 

"He's alien," says Keith simply.

"Can he take us to section E?"

Keith cocks an eyebrow. "It's ten minutes walk."

James shrugs. "Just curious."

"Ask him."

"What?"

Keith looks at James pointedly and James clears his throat. "Okay. Um. Kos- Wolf," James hurries to correct himself. "Can you take us to section E? It's sort of near the Section F where the flight simulator is. Keith, are you fucking with me? I feel like an idiot-"  
  
Suddenly, it's cold, and dark. James shrieks and jumps away, landing hard on the concrete. Keith looks up - section E is painted on the wall, illuminated by security lights. 

"We're outside," says James flatly, recovering from the shock and wrapping his arms around himself. "It's bloody freezing."

Keith laughs. "But he got us here."

"I was expecting something a bit more dramatic - you know, spinning or a glowing vortex, but I just blinked and now I feel sort of sick. And god, it's cold."

"You get used to it," said Keith gently, offering James a hand up. Keith doesn't mind the cold - he liked to come outside some nights to think, looking over the desert at the mountains. Once upon a time you could see the lights from the city on the horizon, but not anymore. "Should we go in?" 

"Yeah. Wish I brought my jacket - No, Kosmo-"

Warmth, light. They were in a room Keith didn't recognise - it looked a lot like Keith's, only tidier, with a calendar above the desk and some freshly folded laundry on the bed. Wolf jumped onto the bed, avoiding the clothes, and sunk down into the duvet looking pleased with himself. 

"Nope, not the bed," James demands, doubled over with his hands on his knees. He points a shaky finger at Wolf. "Kosmo, down."

Of course, Keith realises. James' room.

"Grab your jacket," Keith says, "then we'll go."

"Hell no, this time we're walking," says James, standing up straight and then slumping back against the wall. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"You're the lead MFE pilot and you can't handle a little cosmic wolf travel?"  
  
" _You_ can only handle it because you're half alien."  
  
Keith tenses - he had been teasing, but he isn't sure James is.

"Sorry, that's not an insult." James rolls his shoulders, clicks his neck and takes a deep breath. "Okay, I can handle this. I guess it wears off pretty quickly. We're still walking though."

"We're further away than when we started," says Keith with a sigh, walking over to the bed. "Thanks boy, see you at home."

Wolf disappears in a glittery mist, and Keith is suddenly very conscious of where he is and who he's with. He swallows hard and turns around. James is still leaning against the wall, watching him, thoughtful.

"You have a new room," says Keith, too quickly.

James looks surprised and nods. "We get moved around a lot. I can't even remember what room I had back then-" James seems to catch himself and looks away. When Keith says nothing - what can he say? - James pushes off from the wall and opens the wardrobe.

"I'll grab my jacket," he says, pushing aside uniforms. He pulls out a black leather thing with a puffy hood and big pockets - admittedly cool looking, but not practical for anything except -

"You have a bike or?"

James ducks his head. "I bought yours after you left, but that was a long time ago." He pulls the jacket on, it suits him. "I had a new one built when that busted, using some of Sam's first space tech, but lost it on a mission. Sorry about your bike, it's in the scrap."

"I have a lion now," says Keith, shrugging, but he's glad someone put his bike to good use, even if that someone was James Griffin. "Although I should probably get something smaller if we're going to stick around."

" _Are_ you going to stick around?"

"Dunno yet."

"Well," says James, heading to the door, "if you want, I know a guy who could build you something. I could help you pick out a decent base, make sure you don't get ripped off."  
  
Keith stops.

"James, what are we doing?" 

"What do you mean?"

Keith motions to the space - literal and metaphorical - between them. "We've barely spoken in weeks - in years - and now you're taking me bike shopping?"

James had opened the door a crack, but shuts it gently again. He leaves his hand on the handle and takes a moment to reply. "I don't know," he says eventually. "I thought we should we talk, and it just doesn't feel as  _unnatural_ as I expected. I thought you were going to be a stranger. I thought it was going to be harder."

"So you _have_ been ignoring me," Keith confirmed, not sure whether to laugh or be annoyed. "I thought you didn't even recognize me."

James smiles. "You don't look _that_ different."

" _You_ do."

"Yeah? Good different or bad different?"  
  
Keith feels himself flush and looks away. "It doesn't matter," he mutters.

James just shrugs. "Still want a drink?"

"Yeah, let's go."

-

The Garrison Grub is exactly as Keith remembers it. He still thinks it needs a re-brand - the wooden coat of arms looks ridiculous on the wall in the sterile corridor. A silver plaque underneath reads 'E-17 - Garrison Grub'. That, at least, is new.

"Remember when we used to sneak in?" James asked as they entered. It was loud with chatter and crowded with officers and cadets and the odd alien. Music played, something Keith didn't recognise, but it wasn't obnoxious or too loud.

"It wasn't exactly sneaking in, I don't think Glenn really cared that we were cadets. And it was only twice."

"Really? I thought it was more often. Iverson would have had gone mad though. Even Shirogane would have had us on probation for a month."

"He wouldn't," Keith says softly. 

"Well, maybe not," says James, his expression going dark. He points to a table. "It's busy, claim that one? I'll get us drinks - still a rum guy?"

Keith nods and heads to the table. It's a cramped two-seater - he knows the Grub is always busy on Fridays, but he never expected it to be _this_ popular.

Keith doesn't usually drink in public. He'd bought a bottle a few weeks ago and usually had a glass (or two, or three) when he got home each night. He'd invited Kroila in once and she'd given him a lecture on drinking alone, but he finds crowds exhausting (especially crowds on Earth) and can't imagine coming to the Grub regularly for fun.

"Linmore spiced Rum," says James, setting a glass down. "I know you haven't tried this one yet."

Keith sniffs it. "What'd you get?"

"Gin."

"Gross."

James laughs loudly, genuinely, and it's nice - not the raucous laughter Keith remembers. "I'm glad we came out," James says. "I thought you'd say no."

"I didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone."  
  
James grins. "That was the plan - you're too soft, Keith."

"You haven't changed at all," Keith teases, ducking to hide his smile, but James shakes his head and sobers up.

"I've changed a lot," he says seriously, leaning in a little. "I need you to know that."

"What do you mean?"

"We were kids, Keith. We were stupid. I was stupid."

Keith swallows and sips at his drink noncommitally. He'd been expecting this conversation, ever since they'd landed in James' room, but he isn't ready for it.

"We've both grown up," says Keith at last.

"I was so angry when you left," says James. "I hated you for a long time."

"You hated me anyway."

"I didn't. I was just an angry person. So were you." James runs a hand through his hair. His eyes are so warm and earnest, so unlike James Griffin. "That's why we needed each other."

Every muscle in Keith's body screams at him to leave, to run. His chest is tight and he tries to focus on the icy feeling of his glass in his hand, to force himself to stay seated.

"That was a long time ago," he says.

Something in James seems to deflate. He sinks back into his seat.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Do you ever miss it? The recklessness, I mean."

"No, I don't think so," says Keith after a beat. "It's hard - being part Galran means I have to keep myself in check. But it's important. I have a team, and I'm not very good at it, not like Shiro, but I need to take care of them. I can't afford to be reckless. When I am, I mess things up." 

"That's fair. Speaking of Shiro, I thought he'd be the leader of Voltron. No offence, it's just-"

"None taken. He was, but then he-" Keith pauses. "He lost his ability to communicate properly with Black. I had to step in."

"That's a thing? I thought every Lion had a paladin and that was sort of just...it."

Keith shrugs and drinks.

"So, about Shiro-"

Keith doesn't mean to set his drink down so loudly.

"I get it," says James quickly. "You don't want to talk about him."

"What?"

"Sorry, nothing - well, he was just always a touchy subject. He's why we-"

"This has nothing to do with Shiro," Keith says more harshly than he intends to.

"Okay! Sorry, sorry." James flops back looking defeated. "I just thought, if you guys are a thing now and-"

"What- no," Keith splutters. "We're not - it's none of your business."

"Relax, Keith. I'm not trying to pick a fight." James finishes his drink. "I just - nevermind. Do you want another one?"

"I'll get them," says Keith, feeling uncomfortably warm around the neck. He needs to get away from James, to clear his head. "Gin and?"

"Just gin."

"Boring."

James smiles and Keith leaves quickly, taking a deep breath when he gets to the bar.

He knows he isn't good at this. He was never good with James to begin with, and it doesn't help that this is a James Keith doesn't know. He's always been bad in social situations in general. He needs a buffer - a Shiro, Pidge or Allura he can take lead from - but inviting someone along would have defeated the point, he supposes.   
  
He downs a shot before ordering their drinks.

When he comes back, James is looking through his phone, swiping through little holographic bikes. "This one," he says as Keith sits down and passes him a glass. "It's fast, and I'm assuming you have a pretty decent wage, otherwise I can lend you."

Keith takes the phone and looks at the bike. It has sand wheels, great stabilization, and James is right - it's  _fast_. Keith feels a familiar itch and raps his fingers on the table.

"Mm."

"We can add some galra tech and give it some decent flight too," says James. "I'll have to do mine up, it's been a while. God, I miss our races."

"You make it sound like we were friends." How could James be so nostalgic? He wishes he could remember it like that.

James frowns. "I'm not trying to glorify it - we were unhealthy. But..." he trails off. "I don't know. You're one of my best memories, as a cadet."

Keith laughs drily. "I think your memory sucks."

"Maybe. But we were getting better, until... You could have stayed."

"You know I couldn't-"

"I don't mean stayed on Earth. I mean before that - you could have stayed in the Garrison. I should have left, if it bothered you that much. I wished we'd both stayed though, and fixed things."

"I almost - I could've killed you." Keith's voice is barely audible above the bar noise.

"But you didn't. And maybe I deserved it."

"You- don't be stupid."

Keith looks up at James now. James looks intense - he reaches out, cautiously, and rests his hand on Keith's arm.

"I felt like I did," James says. "I've regretted it ever since. I never should have said that about Shiro, and I never should have-"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does, I drove you away. And then the last time I saw you, in that motel, and you wouldn't speak to me, and you were so-"

"Violent?" Keith pulls James' hand away gently. "I need to apologise too-"

"I don't even care about that. I didn't. I wanted it. I wanted - you. But then you were gone, for good. I thought you were dead."

James looks uncharacteristically flustered.

"James-"

"No, I need to say this." James drops his voice. "I'm not trying to suggest anything. It was years ago and we're different people. But I need you to know you mattered to me. I was an asshole, you were an asshole, but we mattered. I never told you that and then I lost you and it ate away at me for years. So I need to say it. You mattered, Keith."

James finishes quickly and bites at the skin on his lips and stares at Keith with his eyebrows pinched a little, and Keith can't say anything. No one has ever spoken to Keith like this. Not even Shiro.

When Keith doesn't reply, James drops his head to his hands, elbows on the table, and messes up his hair. "I wasn't planning on saying any of this tonight, I don't know how you can still do this," he mutters. "You turn me into an idiot. You're so annoying."

"You mattered too, James," Keith says. He's not sure he means it, but he feels James needs to hear it. "But I-"

"You were in love with Shiro," James says to the table. "I was dumb, but I wasn't that dumb."

"I wasn't-"

"You still are. It's okay. I'm not trying to confess to you - I don't feel that way anymore."

Relief floods Keith and he relaxes. "It's kind of weird," he admits. "I get it. We're strangers, but we're not."

James looks up and laughs, but still looks uncomfortable. "I don't know how I'm supposed to talk to you. I suck at this."

"I guess we can be friends now?" Keith offers. "Now we've grown up a bit."

"God, you're infuriating," says James. "But I'll take it."

-

They stumble outside, hours later, James yawning but Keith full of energy. 

"Call your dog," James demands gruffly.

"I can't just _call_ him," says Keith, bumping into someone. "Sorry," he calls to the cadets heading in the other direction. They blush and giggle back at him.

"Ugh, you're still more popular than me," James mutters. "Stop walking into people."

"I was never more popular than you," says Keith, surprised. 

"Are you kidding? All the girls talked about you. You were mysterious and hot-headed and talented. Girls love that. I was so jealous."

"Since when did you care what girls love?"

"That's not what I was jealous of."

"Oh."

James was holding his arm gently and the corridors suddenly seemed too bright, too narrow. They'd avoided talking about anything dangerous for most of the evening, but Keith could feel the panic settling in him again.

"James, I don't think we should be this close," Keith says lamely, but makes no move to push James away.

James grins at him. "Don't think you can control yourself? I don't blame you, I mean, look at me."

Keith nudges him sharply with his elbow.

"Resorting to petty violence as usual," says James with a mock sigh, but he leans into Keith and Keith leans into him without thinking, and they're so close it's intoxicating.

Keith can't think straight. _Shiro, Shiro, Shiro,_ says Keith's brain, but Shiro isn't here and Shiro loves Adam, and Shiro is heartbroken and Keith will never be Adam.

"Do you want to go see a movie sometime?" James asks suddenly.

Keith stops and James tumbles back into him. "Like a date?" 

James pulls a face. "What are we, twelve? But yes, I am suggesting a movie to insinuate that right now, drunk James would love to take drunk Keith on a date. And he's probably going to regret asking in the morning, in fact he's already starting to regret asking, but-"

"Sure," says Keith. _Why not?_

"What?"

"I haven't seen a movie in years."

"I - wow - okay. Well, I wasn't expecting you to say yes and I don't think the theater really exists anymore but I think the Garrison has one and- Keith?"

Keith guides him gently to the side of the corridor, until James hits the wall. "Keith?" James whispers again. 

 _Shiro,_ says a small voice somewhere inside Keith, but he ignores it.

All or nothing, Keith thinks, pulling James in by the scruff of his collar.

When he kisses James, something engulfs him - a need he'd forgotten about. His gentleness doesn't last, and soon his fingers are in James' hair, and James is pulling him in closer, roughly, until there's no space left between them. Then James, with unexpected strength, spins Keith around, slamming one hand into the wall for support and snaking his other around Keith's wrist. Keith's eyes flash but he melts into it, breathing hard as James pulls away.  
  
"God, I missed you," James whispers into Keith's cheek. He swears as Keith bites his neck. They hear a gasp and more giggles as people walk past, Get a room! someone shouts, and in the back of Keith's mind he knows they should go somewhere less public but right now he doesn't want to be anywhere else, and as if in protest James presses his mouth to Keith's again and Keith's hips buck in response and- 

"We should go somewhere," Keith gets out as he hears more people leave the bar. James' teeth pull at Keith's lip and Keith can feel James' breath against his jaw - a small moan escapes him when James nips his ear. "James, please." His voice low and rough and full of need. James groans and grabs his wrist, stepping away and dragging Keith down the corridor.

"Where-" 

James pulls him into the next room, an unlocked studio and slams the door. It's dark but neither of them make any move to find the light switch. James pushes Keith back, further inside, until they hit a desk or a table. "Is this okay," James breathes. "I wasn't expecting - I don't want to-"

"Shut up," Keith hisses and pulls James into him, hip to hip. He slides his hands under James' shirt, nails gliding along his back. He feels so different to how Keith remembers - broader, stronger, more defined. And then he pushes James away, and in the dim light he can see James' surprise. "Shirt, off," he growls, and tugs his own over his head and drops it to the floor.

James swallows and starts to unbutton. "I would have worn something more casual," he teases as Keith, frustrated, moves in and starts to pull at the buttons too.

"You're really not speeding this along," James laughs.

Keith sighs and pulls at James' buckle instead, undoing it quickly. He runs his fingers along James' waistband before dragging his jeans down slowly - he hears James drop his shirt to the ground and looks up to see James staring down at him, hair mussed and lips parted and looking so fucking pretty Keith almost forgets himself.  
  
He drags his eyes away and flicks his tongue out, licking the inside of James' thigh - its hot and salty and god, the way it makes James _moan_. 

"What do you want?" Keith breathes.

"God Keith, just..."

Keith tugs gently at the hem of the boxer briefs - James twitches and Keith smirks up at him. "What do you want?" He drags his tongue along the fabric as James squirms. 

"God Keith, I want - I need your mouth, and then I want you - fuck, Keith, I can't talk while you do that - I want you to fuck me."

That's all Keith needed to hear.

\---  
  
Shiro is surprised to find he's genuinely enjoying himself. He almost forgets he's here for Keith.

At one point Pidge pulls out a card game that involves bluffing to your teammates, which Shiro is awful at, but somehow he still manages to win a few rounds. The drunker Lance gets the taller his stories get, but they always have a good punchline. It isn't until later on in the night that Lance has his arms wrapped around a less enthusiastic Pidge, wailing about Allura and how little time she'd had for him this week.

"Just ask her out already," Pidge says through a sigh. She silently begs Shiro for help, but Shiro just raises his hands and shakes his head. 

He checks in on Keith occasionally - sometimes Keith seems tense, but for the most part he looks comfortable. It's hard to tell, Shiro can't see his face. Shiro is sure he catches James' eye at least once, but James had looked away as though he hadn't seen them. Shiro avoids Keith at the bar - it's a mission, sometimes.

At some point, Pidge starts to give him weird looks, and then the looks start to turn understanding and Shiro tries not to think what that _means_.  
  
Unexpectedly, Keith and James laugh a lot. Shiro isn't sure how he feels about that.  
  
Now, Lance is dozing off and Pidge and Shiro are talking about the unique evolution of Earth technology. Shiro's dying for the bathroom, but doesn't want to risk walking past Keith. 

He hasn't learned anything about Keith and James, but that's okay, Shiro decides. He's had fun, Keith doesn't appear to be in any trouble, and he's had an unusual opportunity to bond with Lance and Pidge. 

But it's with some relief Shiro sees Keith and James finally make their way to the exit. Pidge notices too - Keith stumbles into an officer and James apologises profusely on his behalf. James grabs Keith's arm and something twists in Shiro's stomach as they stumble out together. 

Lance snores.

"Should we, er, check on them?" Pidge asks. She's looking at Shiro with concern, and for some reason this makes him feel unusually vulnerable.

He tries to shrug, but nods instead.

They try to wake Lance, but in the end leave him asleep on the table, muttering in half formed sentences something about a road trip.

"We'll come back when we know Keith got home okay," Pidge suggests. 

There's giggling outside.

Pidge stops in the door way, but Shiro walks straight past her. He feels her reach out and grab his sleeve, but he shakes her off.

Keith and James are still in the corridor.

Keith is pressed up against the wall, one hand balled into James' hair, nuzzling his face into James' neck.

"Shiro," says Pidge softly.

Shiro feels himself fall apart.

\---

Keith wakes up with a groan. Everything smells different. The light is different. The blankets feel different. He rolls over and freezes - James Griffin is curled up next to him, all long lashes and messy bed hair, mouth parted and gentle breathing.

"Fuck," Keith whispers as he remembers.

He peels the bedspread back gently - god knows how they got back to James' room. He can feel the scratches on his back and knows it's going to feel like hell pressed against a pilot's seat all day. His clothes are on the floor. He gets dressed and quietly searches the cupboards for a cup and downs a glass of water. He can't find his shoes.  
  
He's torn about waking James, but his shame wins out and he sneaks out, shutting the door as quietly as he can. He cringes as the lock clicks loudly shut, but breathes a sigh of relief at the empty corridor and starts off to the stairway - there's no way he's taking the lifts and risk running into anyone heading to breakfast.

He wonders if he should have left a note, but what would it say? He shrugs it off - it's too late now. 

He's nearly to the bottom floor when he hears a door open on the flight above him. He considers running but he's not quite quick enough.

"Keith?"

Keith doesn't want to turn around, but he does. Pidge stands on the landing above him - he forgot she lives in this section. She's dressed for work and must be heading in early. Her eyes drop to his bare feet and he can feel the heat rising up his neck. 

"Hey," she says, and for some reason, her ears are going pink too. "You look like crap."

"Hey," he croaks back.

"Going to breakfast?" she asks, shuffling her feet and looking at Keith's shoulder as if she can't quite meet his eyes.

"Um," is all Keith can say.

"I'll walk with you," she says quickly and skips a couple of steps to meet him. She keeps walking and Keith hurries to fall into step. 

"It's okay," he says, "I was-"

"We were at the Grub last night," Pidge rushes out, looking straight ahead. 

"Oh." Keith's stomach suddenly feels heavy and he reaches out for the handrail.

"We weren't spying on you," she says, "but you were pretty public and-" 

"We?" He doesn't want to know, but he doesn't want to not know either. 

"Me, Lance, and-" Pidge pauses. "Shiro."

 _Shiro._ Keith stops, almost tripping over the next step - he doesn't think he can move even if he wants to.

"You saw-"

Pidge takes a deep breath. "You and Griffin necking in the corridor, yeah." 

"Oh."

"I was actually coming to see you. I wanted to say something, in case there was anyone you wanted to, er, clear things up with. And well," Pidge floundered, pulling at her sleeve, "a few people saw so, there'll be rumors too, so..." She trails off, looking a mixture of sympathetic and uncomfortable. "I'm happy for you though, if it's what you want. Is it?"

Is it? Keith asks himself.

"I have to go," he whispers. 

Pidge, still pink, just steps back and adjusts her glasses as Keith runs past her.

\--

Shiro is just getting out the shower when the doorbell rings. He'd slept restlessly, if at all, and when his alarm went off he'd considered sleeping through it. But routine is important, so he'd dragged his self-pitying ass out of bed to get ready for the gym. He was sure he'd feel better with some adrenaline. 

He pulls on his bath robe and hurries a towel through his hair - he wonders if it's Pidge checking on him. He cringes at his reflection in the mirror. Pidge knew - of course Pidge knew - the way she'd looked at him when they'd stepped out of the bar. He wasn't used to pity.

The bell rings again, buzzing through the room. "Okay, okay," Shiro mutters. He almost doesn't check the ID, but hits it before opening anyway. 

It's not Pidge.

The screen shows Keith, messy haired and baggy eyed, pacing the space in front of the door, tapping the side of thumb against his lip. He turns back to the door and reaches out to hit the buzzer again. Shiro holds his breath - Keith drops his hand without hitting it, and turns to go-

Shiro opens the door.

"Keith?" his voice is rougher than he wants. He tries to swallow the lump inside his throat.

Keith turns around slowly. Shiro forces himself not to look away from the marks on Keith's neck. He almost looks beaten up - bruised, hair plastered to his face, a cut on his lip, barefoot and shirt half tucked in. 

He looks as tired as Shiro feels.

"Shiro," Keith whispers. He brings his hand up to rub his arm, almost as if to distract from the bruise on his forearm. It has the opposite effect, and Shiro's pain turns to anger at the thought of James hurting Keith.

Shiro can't handle Keith being here right now.

"Are you okay, Keith?" he forces himself to ask. "It's early."

"Sorry," is all Keith says. His eyebrows are pinched together and he looks so broken. Shiro wants to pull him into him, to tell him he'll be okay, that whatever quarrel he's had with James will work itself it out. But he can't - he knows he's being selfish, but he's not sure he can hear about it without falling to pieces. 

He's tired. He's emotional. He just needs more time.

"It's alright," he says. "Do you need something? I'm actually just heading out."

 Keith opens his mouth, then closes it. 

"Last night..." Keith swallows and blinks, slowly, like he does. He looks almost pleading - he doesn't want to say it out loud any more than Shiro wants to hear it.

"It's okay, Keith," Shiro says at last. "PDA is against the Garrison rules, but Voltron is a Garrison guest and - and James, well, he has a pretty clean record. You won't get in trouble." He wants to lean against the door frame for support. "I won't report you," he adds. He tries to find a reassuring smile.

 "Oh." Keith's voice is barely a whisper.

"I have to go, I've got a report to write."

"Okay," says Keith quietly.

Shiro's heart hurts.

"Wait here," he says. He goes back inside and pushes the door partially closed. His knees feel weak and he tells himself he's being pathetic. He counts to ten, takes a shaky breath, then picks up his slippers and returns to find Keith still there, curling his bare toes on the cold floor.  
  
"Here," he says gently. It was the least he could do. "They'll be a bit big."

Keith hesitates, but takes them. He's not looking at Shiro anymore.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I'll see you at training."

"Yeah."

Shiro shuts the door and waits to hear Keith leave before falling back against it, letting himself slide down until he hits the floor. Water from his hair drips down the back of his neck.  
  
He skips the gym, and then misses his first meeting.

He doesn't see Keith at training, because Keith doesn't go.

He misses dinner.

He misses Keith.

\---

Keith is curled up on his bed, Shiro's soft white slippers dangling from his toes. He knows he should have a shower. He knows he should get up. He knows he's a coward.

His phone blinks with unread messages from Pidge, Lance, Hunk, Allura. It's open on a message from James.

 _You could have left a fucking note_.

There's no message from Shiro.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was super self-indulgent and dialogue heavy and my first time writing in present tense but I wanted to give it a go! Thanks for reading (and as always please DM me any mistakes you spot because I'm a bit bleary eyed and I'm sure there are things I missed)~


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